


My Dearest Love (I'm Not Done Yet)

by joidianne4eva



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Self-Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-10-14 20:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10544228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joidianne4eva/pseuds/joidianne4eva
Summary: Every living creature needs sustenance to survive and like any living creature that had long gone without food, Hogwarts was hungry.





	

Draco wasn’t sure what started the argument but that wasn’t a new state of being for him. It felt like he was living in a haze ever since they’d been ordered back to school after the trials…at least those of them who hadn’t died or been flung into Azkaban for their crimes.

Draco didn’t know what started the argument but he knew that he was tired of it. He was tired of Potter and his sanctimonious group of sycophants, tired of the jeers and the dirty looks…tired of being tired.

“Do you know the real difference between dark and light magic? The real line that separates us from you?” he snarled, taking in the widening of Potter’s eyes as he took a step forward ignoring Pansy’s attempts to hold him back. “It’s that little line drawn in the sand by people with power,” Draco continued, aware of the eyes on him but he had eyes only for their so called saviour. “That’s what it all comes down to, Potter, power, and I can see that you’ve got a nice taste of it. I wonder just how long it’ll take you to realize that in a world where no one tells the hero ‘no’, there’s no need for a villain.”

“I…you’re wrong, Malfoy. We were just trying to help,” Potter replied and Draco’s lips twisted in a cold smile.

“By forcing us to forget who we are and be just like you…and what happens to the ones that don’t fall in line, I wonder?”

Potter’s mouth opened and shut twice before Draco sneered at him and spun on his heels, leaving Potter spluttering behind him.

It was almost funny how easily the roles had changed after the war but Draco had no time for school yard fights, he’d lost his childhood the second he’d knelt in front of Voldemort. He had a job to do now and he wouldn’t let himself be distracted.

The thought made the wound on his wrist throb and Draco clamped his left hand over it because it wasn’t time yet.

*O*

There was a little girl sitting at the end of Draco’s bed when he woke.

Draco glanced at her only once before he started his usual routine and by the time he’d knotted his tie she was gone.

Blaise glanced up at him as Draco entered the common room, his dark eyes flickering to the bandage peeking out from beneath Draco’s sleeve.

Draco twisted his lips into something that could be called a smile but that didn’t shift the anger in Blaise’s eyes.

Thankfully his friend didn’t say anything; instead he abandoned his perch and followed Draco out onto the corridor, easily catching and matching Draco’s long stride.

Pansy was already at their end of the table and they settled on either side of her, Draco’s attention shifting to his food.

His wrist throbbed but there was nothing that Draco could do about that, just like there was nothing he could do about the little girl, standing in the middle of the hall, staring at him.

“How much longer is it going to take?” Pansy asked, breaking the silence.

Draco blinked once before turning away from the little girl to face Pansy.

“As long as it has to,” he responded.

Blaise snorted at that, his eyes narrowed into slits as he glowered at his meal. “You don’t have to do anything, not for them,” he spat.

Draco glanced up at the Professor’s table where Headmistress McGonagall sat. The woman’s gaze shifted towards him like she could feel his eyes on her but she quickly looked away as soon as their eyes met.

The move made Draco smile.

“I’m not doing it for them, Blaise. My father liked to tell me that history is written by the victors. Right now, they think they’ve won because of old scar-face but the only war we fought was a war we were forced into. This time, it’s a war of our choice…of my choice,” Draco smirked, his gaze flickering to the Gryffindor table and he wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Potter staring at him. “And we’re holding both the quill and the parchment of history. They just don’t know it yet.”

*O*

Potter cornered Draco the next day and he wanted to smile…wanted to bare his teeth at Potter in a snarl that would have made Nagini shiver.

He did neither; instead he met the solemn eyes of the curly-haired man looming over Potter’s shoulder and said nothing.

“What did you mean?” Potter demanded.

Draco blinked once then again just to make sure that the idiot knew how little he cared to decipher whatever Potter was trying to say.

“You said that people drew the line in the sand between dark and light magic. What did you mean by that?”

This time Draco did bare his teeth and shockingly the man at Potter’s back did little but smile at the gesture.

“I meant exactly what I said, now if you don’t have anything else useful to say I should be on my way. I have an appointment to sacrifice a few virgins under a blood moon,” Draco spat, slipping around Potter and ignoring the eyes he could feel boring into his back…both pairs.

He waited until he was too far to be seen before he let himself truly smile.

Potter was like a fly, carefully testing the give of a spider’s nest.

Draco couldn’t wait until he started to get comfortable.

His back throbbed at the thought and Draco didn’t spare a glance for the little girl watching him from the alcove.

*O*

“There’s something wrong!”

Granger’s hissed voice made Draco frown but he didn’t look up from his book. It wouldn’t do to get distracted. As it was Draco could hardly keep himself from eyeing the young woman who was sitting across from him.

Honestly, a library wasn’t exactly somewhere one wanted to go simply to brush their hair.

The thought didn’t stop the steady motion that he could see from the corner of his eye as the woman tugged at her dark curls…it didn’t stop Granger’s prattle either.

“Are you sure they haven’t just gone into another portrait?” Potter questioned and Draco turned his page slowly, eyes following the dips and curves of the letters printed there even as his mind wandered.

“We’ve looked everywhere and Professor McGonagall’s getting worried…she didn’t say it but I know she is. I just don’t get why she’s hiding it from us,” Granger huffed.

The movement at the edge of his vision stopped at the same time the conversation did and when Draco glanced up from his book the young woman was staring at him, a small smile twisting her full lips.

She was gone before Draco could smile back…but he had wanted to.

*O*

Draco wound the silk green scarf around his neck before shoving it down so that it was partially hidden by his school shirt.

The little girl, sitting on his vanity, nodded at his actions as if she was pleased and Draco nodded back.

Straightening his jacket he headed for the common room.

“The Gryffindors are worried because the stairs aren’t working like they’re supposed to,” Pansy greeted.

“Pity,” Draco drawled, using the hand she held out to tug her up from her seat.

“Apparently several of the portraits in the Headmistress’s office are missing,” Blaise informed him.

Draco wrinkled his nose, “I bet I can guess which ones,” he scoffed, waving the words away like particularly annoying flies. “It’s no worry of ours; she’ll bring them back no matter how far they run.”

“Can you see her yet?” Pansy asked, her eyes wide with something more primal than curiosity.

“Pieces of her,” Draco admitted, watching as the little girl skipped ahead of them. “But it won’t be long now,” he continued.

In front of him, the little girl brushed by Potter and Draco hid his smile when the other teen flinched, his gaze scanning the corridors.

It wouldn’t be long at all.

*O*

“Malfoy!”

Draco wondered if he had himself to blame for the fact that Potter felt the need to yodel his surname whenever he was near…he probably did have himself to blame for that.

“Your highness?” he greeted sardonically, eyeing the flush crawling up the other teen’s neck at the moniker.

“Could I just…”Potter started, before biting his lip. “Look, what you said before about us forcing you to be someone you’re not. It wasn’t what we…it wasn’t what I was trying to do. What I’m saying is I’m sorry.”

Draco blinked slowly, watching as the man behind Potter nodded as if in agreement.

“Apology accepted,” Draco responded, grinning at the stunned look on Potter’s face.

“I…well, thanks and the thing you said about dark and light magic…” he trailed off there, staring at Draco expectantly.

“If you want to know the truth about that, I need a favour,” Draco offered up, grin widening when Potter’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “It’s nothing big, Potter, just a little help with a task of sorts.”

“What type of task?” Potter frowned.

“I’m trying to make a record of all the portraits. I’ve started with the ones in our common room but it’s proving to be a bigger task than I expected.”

“Why would you want to do something like that?” Potter demanded, obviously aiming for uninterested and missing by a mile.

Draco hummed beneath his breath, “If you must know my mother’s to blame. She’s started the same project at the Manor to make sure that all those who’ve fled their portraits are well and accounted for. Naturally she already had a record of them all and it made me think, what would happen if we ever lost track of the portraits here? They could be gone forever and we’d never know they were missing,” he explained, turning solemn eyes on Potter. “So, will you help?”

Potter rocked on his heels for a moment, his body sliding into the man behind him and Draco watched him shiver and straighten.

“And if I do you’ll tell me what you meant?”

Draco cocked his head at that, “I’d have thought you’d asked Granger by now.”

The way that Potter’s eyes wouldn’t meet his was interesting but you attracted more bees with honey so Draco let it slide, pulling on the smile that he’d learned at his mother’s knee. The one that said he could eat you whole but you’d love every second of it.

“Of course, if you help me. I’ll help you…after all we’re supposed to be friends. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yeah,” Potter whispered and Draco beamed, the smile directed at the man who was still watching them shrewdly.

“Perfect, meet me at the Astronomy Tower after classes. We can start there and I’ll explain while we work.”

Potter seemed to take his words as the dismissal that they were because he hurried away before Draco could say anything else.

The man didn’t move though and Draco stared up at him. “Just a little bit longer,” he promised.

The man blinked in response and when Draco copied the motion, he was gone.

*O*

Blaise found him just after Draco had finished cleaning his last wound. This one stretched from his wrist to his elbow…it should have hurt, should still hurt given that it was resistant to any form of magical healing but Draco could barely feel it. There was nothing but a burrowing cold sinking from the gaping maw, leaking like ink into his veins.

The little girl wrinkled her nose at the mark and Draco wasn’t sure if it was because he couldn’t really hide it or because the wound was reflected on her own skin.

He wanted to ask her if this wound was hers? If it was the final sacrifice that had ended everything but Blaise’s presence purged the urge.

Blaise was silent while Draco wrapped his arm with the muggle bandages that Pansy had acquired.

The silence was taut with tension but Draco paid it little mind as he shrugged into his shirt.

“This is going to kill you,” Blaise whispered finally and Draco turned to face him.

“Maybe it will but I won’t die alone,” he responded lightly, slipping by Blaise and the sound of familiar footsteps said he wasn’t going to weasel his way out of this confrontation.

“Do you really think he’s got enough magic to pull this off?” Blaise frowned.

Draco grinned, glancing down at the little girl as she curled her fingers around his wrist. “To be honest, I almost don’t need him. The Malfoy ancestral well is so deep that it could probably keep me alive but you should feel it Blaise, his magic…it’s pure as freshly fallen snow on the outside but on the inside…” Draco shivered, remembering the dead look in the eye of the man that haunted Potter like a shadow. “She wants it…they all want it.”

“They?” Blaise demanded.

Draco just shot him a secretive smile, “Our war’s grown bigger than just Hogwarts, Blaise,” he grinned and the tall man standing just inside their common room door grinned back at him as Draco stepped through the spectre.

*O*

“Very few spells are inherently evil,” Draco explained as his quill scratched across the parchment. Draco had taken the task of writing the names and descriptions of the portraits as Potter called them out. He figured that was the only way to keep things legible. “A bloodletting spell for instance could be used to cleanse a wound of venom but I could just as easily float a piano onto someone’s head.”

Potter frowned at that, “But the intent changes the spell,” he pointed out and Draco nodded in acknowledgement.

“Unless it’s an accident, wild magic does what it wants and if a child hurts someone, you can’t blame them for lashing out or for being afraid,” Draco mused, twirling the quill as Potter peered into another portrait…this one just as empty of an actual person as the last. “Dark magic on the other hand isn’t synonymous with evil. It merely means that we have practices and rituals that those who consider themselves as light have labelled as abhorrent.”

“Like?” Potter queried and Draco had to fight to hide his smirk.

“Like blood magic. The Manor’s defences have been built on years of blood magic, each layering upon each other, the blood of Malfoy after Malfoy adding our magic to the well that protects those that live there. Some would consider that dark magic because it isn’t as pure of heart as the fidelius charm. Our motives are selfish and cruel; we protect our own against anything and everything without trying to hide behind a single person. We do what must be done and for that we’re labelled as dark.”

By now Potter was staring at Draco just as intently as the little girl at his feet was staring at him.

“But you don’t care about being called dark,” Potter noted.

“Not at all,” Draco smirked, “The Lady Morgana was once called dark and it’s done little to hurt her image. Sometimes the dark isn’t half as scary as it seems…but you should know that, shouldn’t you?”

Potter bristled but before he could say a word Draco stood, brushing off his trousers.

“A little piece of advice, Potter, a man who says he has no darkness in his heart is a man that you should probably watch,” he offered up, turning away.

His strides were even and unhurried as he headed back to the common room and three steps of footsteps echoed his own.

Draco didn’t think about the other sound that followed him.

*O*

Draco woke to blood on his tongue and an unfamiliar head on his pillow.

He wrinkled his nose and tried to scrape the taste off with his teeth as he sat up.

The head turned to follow him when he slipped from the bed and Draco paused to frown at it. It did him little good because the head had no eyes so it was a bit difficult for Draco to tell whether his frown was having any effect.

He was rather amused when the head rolled right off the bed, thumping to the floor as it followed him into the bathroom.

The little girl on his counter shot the head a dirty look but her attention quickly switched back to Draco as he cast a freshening charm on his mouth.

Waving at him she opened her own mouth, demanding that he do the same for her.

Draco studiously avoided looking at what was left of her tongue as he cast the charm.

His had grown back, hers would too.

*O*

“We’re a bit low on portraits,” Draco mused, eying Potter as the boy stared at the empty landscape.

There were tears in Potter’s eyes and a hard set to his jaw. At Potter’s back the man stared solemnly at Draco when Potter pressed his fingers against the painting.

“It feels like she’s dying,” Potter whispered.

Draco didn’t dare to breath.

It had taken him weeks to get to this point, weeks of slowly pulling Potter away from his friends.

Weeks of gentle words and gentler touches but it was all paying off now.

Schooling his expression into something neutral Draco sighed, “She’s been dying for a while, Potter and she’s been taking me with her,” he huffed, keeping his eyes wide when Potter snapped around to face him.

Slowly Draco pulled out his wand and it took only a flicker to release the glamour he’d cast over himself, to hide the scars and wounds he usually hid beneath his conservative uniform.

Potter made a soft broken sound, his fingers reaching out but Draco took a step back even though he didn’t want to.

“It’s fine, this is my penance. If I can give her my magic she’ll be able to live on,” Draco murmured.

Potter shook his head, like the thought alone was too abhorrent to comprehend. “You can’t do this; you’re just a fucking child…”

“And she’s your home,” Draco cut across him, letting his eyes drop in mock surrender. “I couldn’t be your friend but when you tried to help us at the start of the year…I needed to pay you back.”

Potter’s hands fisted in Draco’s shirt and when Draco looked up at him his green eyes were wild, magic crackling from his skin like lightning.

“Not like this, you can’t…you’re supposed to be my friend, right? That’s what we’re doing here? Then you don’t get to do this. I…I don’t want anyone else to leave me.”

“Don’t let the girl-Weasley hear you saying that,” Draco teased, half-heartedly because trust Potter to somehow make him doubt himself.

“Fuck Ginny,” Potter whispered and Draco snorted.

“She’s got the wrong parts for me,” he muttered, pushing Potter away gently.

“It’s fine, Pot-head, I might survive, my magic is strong.”

Potter frowned at that, his eyes searching Draco’s face, “What about my magic? It’s just as strong, right…that’s what you said before about me having power.”

“But you don’t have the right type of magic for this spell,” Draco whispered, watching as Potter realized what he was trying to say.

“You think my magic is too light.”

I think you’re magic is as dark as a moonless night but you don’t think that…that was what Draco wanted to say but what he said instead was nothing at all.

Instead he ruffled Potter’s hair and slipped by him.

The footsteps that followed him were louder this time, as was the sound of something being dragged across the floor.

*O*

“It looks like the golden trio isn’t so golden anymore,” Pansy mused as they sat at their table.

Draco glanced away from his tea, to the spot where Potter usually sat only to find it empty. Granger and Weasley were still there but without Potter’s presence they might have well have not been.

“He hasn’t been hanging around them for a while,” Blaise pointed out and Draco could feel Blaise’s eyes on him but he didn’t turn around even when Blaise continued. “He hasn’t been anywhere for a while.”

Sniffing, Draco took another sip of his tea. It tasted like he was drinking pure sugar but he needed it to keep him awake.

His magic was working overtime to feed the school and there was little left for him.

The little girl pressed herself against him at the thought and Draco barely caught himself before he could reach out and try to comfort her.

“I’m sure that Potter’s fine,” he finally offered up.

“And what about you? Are you going to be fine?” Blaise demanded.

Draco just took another sip of his tea, watching as a detached hand went skittering across the teacher’s table.

He wondered if they’d be able to taste its rot on their food.

*O*

Draco hated that he had to go down to the chambers to do the spell. The scent of damp in the air and the cold that seeped through his clothes was familiar to him now but he dreaded climbing his way back to his common room afterwards.

The man and the woman watched him patiently as he retrieved his knife and he shot a reassuring look down at the little girl who was clinging to his trousers.

He could see the other man…or the parts of him, hiding in the shadows but it was the shadows themselves that held Draco’s attention as they shifted, flowing over each other around the small pit that was coated with his blood and his magic.

Forcing his eyes away from them Draco re-opened the cut on his wrist…the others opened on their own and soon his clothing started to feel sodden as the blood soaked through them, pooling around his bare feet before slipping across the floor and into the pit.

The abyss snapped open the second that the first droplet joined its brethren and Draco swayed on his feet as his magic was torn from him.

Gritting his teeth against the scream clawing at his throat, he clenched his fingers around the knife, ignoring the pain and the slickness coating his palm.

He stumbled then and both the man and the woman rushed forward as if to help him even though Draco knew that they couldn’t.

Then there were hands at his back and the pull on his magic lessened until Draco could almost feel it.

He tried to turn himself to see who it was but he was too weak, he’d given too much of himself again and the last thing he saw was the shadows, rising up like walls around him.

*O*

“I’m not dark,” Potter whispered and Draco didn’t know how he knew that Draco was awake but he forced himself to open his eyes regardless.

“I never said you were,” Draco pointed out as he stared at the other boy.

Potter’s face was harder now and Draco could almost see the man who Potter would become. It made the ravenous feeling in Draco’s stomach bubble, hungry and desperate like the pit of the abyss.

Potter shook his head, “But you think I am, that’s why you wanted me to help.”

“I never said I wanted you to help either,” Draco shot back, meeting Potter’s eyes steadily because he hadn’t.

Potter didn’t seem fazed by the rebuttal instead he just brushed the hair from Draco’s face. “You don’t say a lot of things but I still hear them.”

Draco offered him up a weak smile in response, “That’s good; I’d be pissed off if I found out that you were as stupid as you acted.”

Behind Potter’s back the man scowled at him and Draco scowled back.

*O*

Draco’s bed was warm when he woke and he wasn’t sure if that was because of all the living bodies hovering around it or the dead ones actually on it…Draco wasn’t going to think about the body parts… he doubted they gave off much heat either way.

“What is he doing here?” Pansy demanded, glaring at a still sleeping Potter.

“Gossip can wait,” Blaise cut in, “The portraits are bleeding, Draco.”

Draco’s eyes snapped away from Potter to search Blaise’s face. “Which ones?”

“All of them,” Pansy whispered as she wrapped her arms around herself and Draco just noticed the redness around her eyes. “We tried to find you and we couldn’t. We thought…”

“You thought I’d died,” Draco guessed as she trailed off. “I’m fine, Pansy.”

“Because of me,” Potter muttered as he buried his face even deeper in Draco’s pillow, completely unconcerned that he was surrounded by Slytherins…at least on the surface but Draco could feel his magic sifting around them, like a constrictor coiling loosely around its prey.

Closing his eyes for a second Draco let it flow over him before he forced himself to refocus on the situation.

“How much magic did you give?” he asked and Potter twisted around so he could stare balefully at him.

“Is sleep too much to ask?” he huffed, sitting up slowly and Draco noted the way that he avoided disturbing the little girl curled up on his lap. “I gave what she asked for, then I gave what you needed.”

“You do realize that that’s dark magic, Potter,” Pansy spat but Potter just quirked a brow at her, threading his fingers through Draco’s and Draco let him.

“I don’t care,” he said calmly, his face a neutral mask.

Blaise barked out a laugh at that. “Spoken like a true saviour.”

Potter tilted his head and stared at Blaise for a long moment but he didn’t contradict the statement even as he turned back to face Draco.

“Why are the portraits bleeding?” he asked.

“It’s the overflow. It’s happened a few times before, usually when a group was used as the sacrifice but I guess that between your magic and mine…”

“Hogwarts can’t contain it all,” Potter finished for him and Draco let himself stare at the other teen as Potter stared down at the little girl in his lap.

Draco didn’t know how Potter could contain it all. Even now with hours between the ritual and the present Draco could still feel Potter’s magic, swirling through his veins, spilling out from his core as it mixed with his own.

He wondered if Potter couldn’t feel it? Or maybe he was always so overwhelmed by the sheer amount of magic that something like this barely registered.

On a whim, Draco lifted his wand.

The lumos that he whispered was a gentle thing in both word and intent.

Light flickered from the end of his wand but it was drowned out, like a candle trying to compete with the sun.

Pansy gasped and Blaise turned around slowly, his eyes wide but Draco didn’t have eyes for them, instead he stared at Potter and the other teen stared back at him, a smile creasing the corner of his lips as he ducked his head bashfully.

Draco didn’t know what was more beautiful, the glowing walls of light that surrounded the room or the sight of Potter’s magic, dancing along his own as it powered the spell.

“Can you see her now?” Pansy asked, her voice breathy with awe and something else that sounded a little like fear.

The words made Draco glance at the three people on the bed who were all staring at him and Potter like they were something foreign.

“Yes,” Potter whispered and Draco tangled their fingers together as he nodded.

“I can see it all,” he responded.

*O*

It was hard to tell where Potter started and where Draco ended.

It made things easier and harder because Potter was still the same person he had been before but now he had added pieces. His words twisted easier and he was slower to smile yet quicker to smirk.

Draco often caught himself in the midst of trying to help someone just because he could and it usually had him pasting on a scowl on his face.

It didn’t keep Potter from dipping into Draco’s memories, colouring each piece of information with his emotions as Draco constructed long lists of people to pay back for sleepless nights and scars of abuse that would haunt Potter forever.

The portraits watched them and the headmistress did too but no one approached them about any of it.

“They’re scared,” Draco noted as he watched McGonagall hurry down the corridor as if she hadn’t changed directions when she saw them coming. “They know what we’ve done and it terrifies them.”

Potter knocked their shoulders together at that but it did little to dull Draco’s glee.

“We did it for them,” Potter pointed out and Draco snorted because that was a blatant lie. He hadn’t done it for anyone but himself.

“You did it for me,” Potter rebutted.

Draco just cocked a brow, “I did it to get you, Pot-head. There’s a difference,” he taunted but Potter just brushed the words away with an ease that would have annoyed Draco if it hadn’t been his own trait…misdirected but still his.

“They’re scared of what we’re becoming,” Potter mused, swinging their clasped hands and for a quick second the skin there fused together before unknitting.

“That’s the thing about legends…no one really looks closely at it as long as it says the right side won,” Draco smirked, his gaze following the little girl dancing by, her blue dress glimmering as she went.

“Did the right side win?” Harry asked because sometimes he was Harry, sometimes when his eyes begged Draco to tell him that they hadn’t bound themselves to something bigger than they were, he reminded Draco of the boy in the robe shop, the boy who Draco would kill to protect…to possess.

“What does it feel like?” Draco inquired, watching as Potter glanced down at their hands.

“It feels like we’re home,” Potter answered after a moment and Draco beamed at him because they were.

They were home in more ways than one.

If Draco wanted to he could ignore the feeling of feet on his skin, could block out the sense of his limbs moving without his conscious effort or say so.

History only told of the sacrifice that was needed to keep Hogwarts alive. In their bid to glorify what had happened the light had lost much of its knowledge but the dark hadn’t.

Draco grew up on tales of the souls trapped within the school’s walls. He knew what kept Hogwarts functioning and even now he could feel them…the lost ones whose souls were trapped along with their magic feeding the gaping maw that was Hogwarts’ foundation.

Up ahead the man adjusted his vest coat and for a second a glint of light bounced off his sword, spilling over his companion’s yellow dress and Draco knew that if he looked close enough he’d probably be able to catch flashes of green from where the body parts were lurking in the shadows.

The school was ravenous, whether by design or some other fault, Draco wasn’t sure but she’d never been alive…not in the sense that the light believed.

The thought made him smile even as he followed Potter out into the sunlight.

Behind them the school breathed and they breathed with her…for her.


End file.
